Take Care of Yourself
by Skalidra
Summary: Jason has smoked ever since he was a kid. For a long time he thought that his partner Roy didn't mind, despite Roy's previous addictions. Until the day that Roy calls, telling Jason that he has to stay away for the night. Roy is craving, and can't handle being around someone who smells like cigarette smoke. Jason decides to quit. - Jason/Roy, prompt fill.


Hello! So, I'm running a wee bit short on prompts I've finished (I got very distracted by a couple of A/B/O universe ideas), but I've got a couple more before I'm out, and hopefully I'll have some more before then. XD So, for now, this is an anonymous prompt for Jason/Roy, prompt 41, "You did all of this for me?" - This is total fluff, and I love their relationship so really that should have been expected. It's somewhere where Jason and Roy are off in their own team, but Dick is still Nightwing/is Nightwing again? Psshhhh; continuity! Enjoy!

This contains **warnings** for: past drug addiction, current nicotine addiction, and minor withdrawal.

* * *

I'm in the middle of demolishing a group of random thugs when my phone goes off, the ringtone blaring from it cheery and definitely very 'Top 40' pop style. One of the thugs gives me a look that's somewhere between disbelieving and disgusted, and I promptly kick him in the face.

"Not my choice," I snap down at him, where he's crawling off to press against the wall and clutch at his definitely broken nose. "Hang on a second."

I fish my phone out of my jacket, ducking under another thug's punch as I hit the button to answer and hold it up against my ear. I decided to leave the helmet on my bike, which is just at the opening of this alley. Thug number two gets his legs swept out from under him as I spin, and hits the ground with a whoosh of air that makes me smirk. I forget how much fun messing with random thugs can be, sometimes. It's good to unwind.

"Really, Roy?" I say to start off the conversation. "You hacked my phone _again?_ You couldn't leave me with my nice rock ringtones?"

There's a second of silence that I use to arm bar rushing thug number three across the throat, and then Roy laughs. I straighten the _hell_ up and pay attention because the laugh is shaky, almost forced, and Roy's normal laughs are one of the brightest, purest things I know. I snarl at the remaining thugs, giving a few threatening hand gestures that make it pretty fucking clear that if they keep coming after me I'll shoot them, and then turn on my heel and head for my bike in a jog.

" _Hey, Jaybird,"_ Roy says, and my hackles raise a little further. He's speaking quietly, and there's that same faint shake to his voice.

"What is it?" I ask, swinging a leg over my bike but not starting it quite yet. No point in tearing off one direction when for all I know he could be in the other. "Are you alright?"

" _Yeah, I'm fine, I just—"_ He cuts off, and then there's a bitten off sigh. " _No, I'm not. It's uh, been kind of a bad day for me, and I'm really kinda craving and I just needed to call you."_

"I can be at the house in twenty, and I'll stay on the line the whole time, I promise." Now I start the engine, nerves blazing to life in my gut. I don't know addiction the way that Roy does, not from firsthand experience, but I've seen him struggle with it. I know how badly it messes with his head sometimes, and how hard it can be for him to not give in and relapse. I've held and coaxed him through bad days like this before; I can do it again.

" _No, Jason, wait."_ I freeze in place, swallowing down any kind of words and forcing myself to just listen for whatever else he's going to say. " _I'm going to call Waylon in a minute here and talk to him."_ A weak laugh from him, even as I grit my teeth at the thought of Killer Croc talking Roy, _my_ partner, through not giving into his addiction. " _My sponsor, right? I'm kinda supposed to call whenever this happens, and let him talk me down. But Jaybird, I called to say… I— Don't come home, alright?"_

For a second, I can't say anything. Then I manage, "I— What? _Why?_ "

I can hear the long, slow breath he pulls in. " _I want you here, Jason, I swear I do, but… You're going to smell like cigarette smoke, and I don't think I can handle that right now without wanting one. I need you to stay away."_ I realize, after a couple seconds, that I'm clenching my jaw tight enough that it aches. " _Jason?"_

"Yeah," I spit out, and then raise my hand to scrub over my forehead as I squeeze my eyes shut. "Shit, yeah. I get it, Roy, it's alright. You're taking care of yourself, and that— That's good. I'll stay away as long as you need me to, just let me know when I can head back because I don't want much more right now than to hold you tight enough you can barely breathe, alright?"

This laugh sounds just a bit more real, and I sit back on the bike and flick the engine off again. " _Will do. Talk to you later, Jaybird?"_

"Take care of yourself," I press. "And look, if you can't get ahold of Cro— Waylon, or you just need me there for any reason, you call me right back, okay? I'll fucking douse myself in perfume or something, and I'll be there."

He breathes out, and I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, " _Thanks, Jaybird. Love you."_

I close my eyes for a second, and then quietly answer, "Love you too." He hangs up, and I lower my phone away from my ear and let out the shaky breath that's been building in the back of my chest.

I should have known that Roy would have problems with my smoking habit. It was _stupid_ not to. It's just never come up before, and he's never complained, but that's Roy I guess. He'd never complain about what I do until it's really important, or until he can't take it anymore. Still, I should have noticed, and I should have connected the dots. Roy was a heroin addict, which granted is one hell of a lot bigger and nastier than cigarettes, but it's been pretty clear to me that it left him with a taste for quite a few different types of addiction. Cigarettes, fun _fucking_ fact, are addictive. I knew that.

I wish he'd said something.

I shove my phone away and get off my bike. It probably looks like hell coming for them when I head for the group of thugs still hiding in the alley, and a couple take off running but not all of them can get out of here that fast, not with what I've already done to them. I come to a stop a few feet away from the first of them, and curl my mouth into a snarl.

"How about the group of you point me in the direction of something or someone a lot nastier than you sorry fucks?" I grit out, and then offer a nasty grin. "I don't think any of you want to volunteer to help me work out my new bad mood."

They're shaking like leaves, but one manages to stutter out the address to some kind of gang safe house that should be mostly full. I only break that one's leg, the others aren't as lucky.

* * *

I push through the door to our warehouse of a home, immediately shrugging off my jacket and throwing it to the side. It lands on some mess of a table that probably has enough half finished projects to satisfy a whole research lab's quota for a year, and normally I'd roll my eyes at that but right now I don't have the attention to spare for humor.

I get through the main part of the building and back into the actual rooms, and find Roy curled up in our bed on his side. He's on top of the sheets, a pillow dragged down under his head and not wearing anything but a pair of light grey sweatpants. His hair's still in a messy, half coming apart loop at the back of his neck, and I can feel myself relax. Moving closer comes naturally, and I loop around the side of the bed so I can sit down at his front. He stirs a little at the disturbance of my weight, and his eyes groggily peel open.

"Hey, Roy," I murmur, reaching over and tracing my fingers down his jaw.

He blinks up at me, shifts into my touch, and then smiles. Slow, sleepy, and so bright it makes my chest ache a little. "Hey," he answers, his voice barely even a breath.

I lean down, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder and then resting my head against the top of it, tilting just enough that I can still look down and meet his gaze. "You doing alright?"

He nods, and then guilt slips into his green eyes and he cringes in on himself a little. "Jaybird, I'm sorry about earlier. I probably would have been just fine, and I shouldn't have freaking _exiled_ you like that and—" I shove him onto his back, and he gives a startled grunt. "Jay?"

I shift over him, keeping him held down with my hand to the center of his chest. "Don't you _ever_ apologize for asking for what you need from me, Roy." It comes out as more of a snarl than I mean it to be, and I try to backtrack. "Fuck. Seriously, just don't." I let my hand lighten, and manage a tiny smile. "If you think I'm ever going to fault you for taking care of yourself, you're dead wrong, okay?"

He reaches up, touching the side of my neck with his fingers and then sliding them up through my hair. His mouth curls into a smile. "Yeah?" Everything about him is soft, and I obey the gentle pressure at the base of my skull to lean down and kiss him. It holds for barely even a moment, but then he's giving a soft, _happy_ laugh against my mouth. "You smell like lavender," he murmurs.

I shrug. "Just grabbed the first scented perfume looking thing on the shelf of the store I went into. Pretty sure they thought I was crazy, but it's not like that's new." I tilt my head against his, rubbing my nose against his cheek and then sliding my head down to bury it against his neck. "I wish you'd told me sooner," I admit. "I never meant to make things harder for you."

His other arm wraps up around my side and pulls me down into him, and I resist for just half a second before letting him pull me down to rest on his chest. It can't be that comfortable for him, but he doesn't seem to care. He just wiggles closer to me, and presses a kiss to the side of my head. I take a breath in, moving enough that I can get my hands together and start to strip my gloves off.

"Ninety percent of the time I barely even notice," Roy tells me, his grip on me loose, but still enough of a hold that I know he doesn't want me going anywhere. "Promise, Jaybird." He takes in a deep breath, and then hugs me to him a little tighter. I adjust myself so I'm not digging my shoulder into his chest, carefully wrapping my arms around him and sliding my now bare hands across his skin. "Having you here," he whispers, "and having you support me… That means the world to me, Jason. Everybody has always been so judgmental and you're just _not_. But…" I can feel him choke a little bit. "But you don't let me do what will hurt me, and that's unbelievably important too. I can handle a little smoke for that. Most of the time. Today was just…"

"Bad?" I ask, raising my head enough that I can look him in the eye. Roy gives a crooked smile.

"Yeah." He lets out a slow breath, and then lets go of me. "Tell you as you strip down?"

I lean down to give him a soft kiss, lingering in the moment before I murmur,"Deal."

* * *

Dick has never been hard to track down, not if you know what you're looking for. I spend a good three or four minutes watching him dismantle some kind of gun-running operation from the building next door, at least until he turns and waves at me. That smile on his face says he's more amused than pissed off at my vaguely stalking behavior, but it still makes me a little bit wary.

I move in to help him, taking a room totally by surprise by crashing through its window. The guy I slam my weight into, through both my legs, will probably be just fine as long as he doesn't move too much. Out of respect for Dick, and the niggling knowledge that I need him to be in a good mood for this, I hold myself back. No killing, and no injuries that will probably end up fatal without quick medical attention. It's a little bit of a pain, but I manage it.

When I come out of the room, leaving the group behind me zip-tied and mostly unconscious, Dick is waiting against the wall opposite. He's smiling, though I do see him tilt his head to look around me and into the room. Raising an eyebrow — not that he can see it behind my helmet — I step to the side and push the door all the way open to make it easier. Neither of us actually says anything about the moment, Dick just smiles a little brighter, and turns his attention fully onto me.

"Hey, Jay. Didn't know you were in Gotham." He half-turns, tilting his head and shoulder in invitation. I take it, walking beside him and further into the building; probably towards whatever other thugs are farther in. Dick does pretty good recon work, when he's got the motivation for it. This doesn't look like something he just stumbled upon.

I grunt out an acknowledging noise. "Appreciate if you didn't tell anyone; not here to cause trouble."

Dick doesn't quite laugh, but I can see the twitch of his mouth like he was going to. "Yeah? Why then? You don't usually stop by Gotham without something specific in mind." True. Too many memories here, and too many judgmental assholes just waiting to lecture me about my latest mistake, no matter how small it was.

I shrug, and then Dick pushes open another door and conversation gets dropped in favor of taking on the opponents inside. Against the two of us, they really don't stand even the slightest chance. We leave another group of bound thugs behind us and move on, and then I pick the conversation back up.

"Can I crash on your couch for awhile?" I ask, glancing to Dick to catch his reaction.

It's a bit startled, wary, and then confused. "Why?" he counters. "You and Roy—?"

"Are fine." No way I'm letting _that_ go anywhere. "He thinks I'm helping you guys out with an undercover job that you're all too pretty and famous to pull off." That gets me a small grin, but it quickly fades into more confusion, and maybe a bit of defensiveness.

"I need to know why, Jay," he presses. "And how long."

"Maybe a month, or less?" It feels like I've been shrugging too much, but I do it again anyway. "That's just a guess." He's still watching me, pointedly even through the mask covering his eyes, and I turn my head away so I can at least _pretend_ that he's not studying me. "I'm quitting smoking, alright? I don't know how hard it might be and I need somewhere to crash where there's an actual person to keep me accountable for it."

Suddenly Dick is stopping, and before I can turn all the way towards him he's reaching forward and pulling the release for my helmet. I jerk away, but it's too late to stop it coming off so I just catch it instead, facing him as I glare.

"What the hell?" I snap. "You could have just asked, you _ass_."

"Jay, are you serious?"

"Yeah, I— Jesus, why are you giving me that _look?_ " I grimace, taking half a step back because Dick looks like he might try and hug me and I'm not really down for that. Physical contact is still something that unnerves me just a bit if it's anyone but Roy, and being held on top of it is just one more step towards not alright. "It's not that big a deal, alright?"

"Uh-huh." He sounds unconvinced. "So then why aren't you just doing this back in your own city? With Roy?"

I snort out a breath. "Because I might be a pretty shitty person to be around for awhile, and I'm not letting him take the brunt of that. You I trust enough to be around when I'm not at my best, and you'll just bounce back from whatever I throw at you. Red would get pissy, and…" I look away, admitting, "There's not many people I trust enough." It stings a little that goddamn _Replacement_ is on that list, but there you have it. "Look, I don't want sympathy, or pity, or any other fucking emotion you're thinking about flinging at me so just _don't_. All I need is a place to crash, and someone who won't just crumple under my bad mood."

"Did Roy ask you to do this?" And there Dick goes; completely ignoring my demands and just asking his own questions as if I never spoke.

"No," I answer, keeping my voice flat and clipped.

"Are you doing it _for_ him?"

I swallow, and then give a nod of my head that's a lot more of a jerk than I'd like. "Yes."

Dick's face _lights_ up, and then he _is_ hugging me and I freeze, instinct telling me that I need to get him the hell off _right fucking now_ , and rational thinking reminding me that this is my brother and I will _not_ hurt him if I can help it. I squeeze my eyes shut and make a pretty obviously displeased, warning sound that comes out as a snarl, clenching my hands to fists. Dick decides not to press the issue, and I relax a little bit when his arms aren't holding me anymore. He's still closer than I'd like, but it doesn't look like that's going to change anytime soon.

"Look at you, Little Wing," Dick almost fucking _coos_ , "all grown up and in a real relationship."

I don't automatically try and punch him, and I think that might actually prove his point the _bastard_.

"Shut the hell up, _Dick_." It's a warning _and_ a threat, and he tips his head in a nod and only grins at me a _lot_. Asshole.

I think I'd rather deal with Dick than Tim though, at least in this. Tim gets snappy and hikes up a big, cold wall when people around him are nasty. Dick, on the other hand, either reacts just as nastily or, if the person is being nasty because they're hurt, ignores it and steps in as caretaker. Dick can be a smothering, controlling, son of a bitch about people when they're hurt, but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe he'll keep me on track.

Dick's only quiet for a moment before he shrugs my threat off as easily as a coat. "Does Roy know?" His voice is quiet, but it still makes my jaw clench.

"Can we get back to the fucking job?" I snap, which is probably the most _terrible_ way to avoid answering because Dick can be like a dog with a bone when he wants answers. I turn and start walking away, and I can just barely hear him following me.

"He _doesn't?_ Jason, why not? He'd be so proud of—"

"I don't _want_ him to be proud!" I manage to keep my voice below a shout when I turn on Dick, and I think that's an accomplishment. "Would you _stop_ for just one second? It's not a big thing. It's one small, stupid thing I should have done a long time ago, and I don't want or deserve people being _proud_ of me because I finally got around to it. Back off, alright?! What I do or don't do is my own fucking business!"

Dick only looks startled for a second, and then he rallies and gets right up in my face. "Jay, you're quitting an addiction. It doesn't matter what you think you deserve, that kind of willpower is worth being proud of."

"It's not an addiction," I argue, my mouth flattening into a line in denial. "It's just a habit. I'm ironing out a _habit_. It does not compare to an addiction and don't you fucking dare say it does. Don't you dare make light of what Roy's been through like that."

Again, that briefly startled look. Except it doesn't go away. He stares at me, and then shifts back half a step and takes in a slow breath. "You love him." My jaw tightens at his soft, astonished tone. Like he can't believe that I'm actually capable of caring for someone that much, or can't believe that I'd let myself. "You do, don't you, Jason?"

"It's none of your business," I tell him, keeping my voice hard and uncompromising, "so leave it alone. Just tell me whether or not I can crash at your place and let's be done with this whole fucking mess of a conversation, alright?"

Dick's smile — soft, slow, but brightening to nearly fucking blinding — convinces me that he's not even slightly fooled. "Yeah, Little Wing. Of course I'll help."

I watch him for a second, and then give a curt nod and raise my helmet to click it back into place. "Thanks." The helmet seals, and in my deeper, warped voice I ask, "Can we just finish this damn building now, you ass?"

Dick leads the way without another word, but he doesn't stop smiling. Not for the whole night.

* * *

I reach for the remote, clicking off the TV and then burrowing into the corner of the couch. My head tilts back against the cushions, and I swallow and close my eyes. I think I lose a second or two of time, because suddenly there's a hand in my hair, combing it back from my forehead. I pry my eyes open, looking up to find Dick leaning down over me, over the back of the couch.

"How you doing?" he asks, voice quiet. The soothing touch to it irritates me, but I don't have the energy to be really pissed.

"Fine," I grumble. He doesn't really react, just waits, and after a long stretch of silence I admit, "Exhausted. Restless." I huff out a snort of breath. "Twitchy."

His fingers comb back through my hair, and I close my eyes again as his nails lightly scratch over my scalp. It's nice, feels good, and I lean into the couch and let out the breath in my lungs. A big part of it also might be that I miss Roy, fucking _terribly_ , and Dick's not a substitute for him but he does have a knack for touching people in just the right way. Like these fingers in my hair, or the soft, gentle touches to my shoulders that he's been leaving all week. Not too much, not enough to make me nervous or pissed, but just enough to remind me that he's there. Usually I think Dick is way too touch-oriented, at least around me, but right now it's not so bad.

Oh, I would pay a lot to have Roy here. I know he would have his arms wrapped around me, and my head tucked under his chin, and all I'd be able to smell and see would be him and it would be incredible. But I stand by my earlier reasoning, even if it's harder to remember now.

I'm in a bad mood, have been since the nicotine withdrawal kicked in, and I don't want to take it out on Roy. Dick at least knows how to ignore anything and everything I say; normally I hate that but this makes it kind of useful. Roy's not fragile, and he's damn well not weak, but what I say does mean more to him. I've snapped at Dick at least a dozen times, said _mean_ things that I regretted the second they left my mouth, and he's managed to just ignore all of it. Roy would take it more personally, I know he would. I can't let that happen. I won't hurt him.

"Want anything?" Dick asks. It takes me a second to process, but then I shake my head. There's another few moments of silence while his fingers slide through my hair, and then he draws his hand away. "Jason," he murmurs, "why are you doing this?"

I crack my eyes open, tilting my head just enough that I can see him. "For Roy," my voice comes out even quieter than his. "Didn't we fucking cover that?"

"Yeah, but _why?_ " I open my eyes just a little further, to make sense of the expression on Dick's face. Confusion, determination, and something like… hope? "You've smoked as long as I've known you; why choose now to give it up? What was the trigger?"

I think I manage to glare at him, just for a second. It would figure that Dick would wait long enough for me to be completely exhausted before he asked questions he knows I don't want to answer. Not that I can fault him, I guess. I don't care enough to try and lie, not right now, so clearly it's working.

I swallow, and then close my eyes again. "He was having a bad day; called me to check in. Told me not to come home, because I would smell like cigarette smoke and he didn't think he could handle it without wanting one." I tap my fingers against my thigh, and give another shrug. "It's not fair to him to have that be right in his face all the time. It was stupid of me not to realize it to begin with."

Fingers return to my hair, and then a moment later there are lips against my forehead. Only lingering for a moment, before he draws away. "You really are sweet, you know that, Jason?" I grumble at him, shift my head away as I bare my teeth in something like a snarl. But I definitely don't open my eyes, and he sounds very unimpressed. "Mmhmm. Yeah, I know. Lay down, Little Wing, all the way." Slowly, haltingly, I manage to make myself obey. I rest my head on the arm of the couch, and stretch myself out along the rest. Bless Dick Grayson and his long couch; there aren't many that can hold my full height. "Get some rest," he murmurs, and I hear a soft footstep against carpet before his lips are pressing against my forehead again. "I'll be here."

"Don't need you," I grumble, even as I tilt myself into the back of the couch and onto my side.

"I know," Dick answers, fingers trailing across my scalp one more time before they carefully pull out of my hair. "Sleep, Jason. For Roy."

I yawn, and my words are more a mumble than anything else as I say, "Don't… use him as motivation." I let out a soft breath, and then a blanket settles over me and is pressed down along the line of my back. "Bastard."

Dick's fingers ghost against the back of my neck, and I can hear the fondness in his tone as he murmurs, "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

I come awake _screaming_.

Roy is there, holding my arms down on either side of my head like his hands are made of steel. I know he's stronger than me when it comes to pure arm strength — he's an _archer_ — but I so rarely get reason to remember it. He's hot, and steady, and I'm fighting him like a man possessed.

Instinct makes me react to him holding me down by writhing, pulling and pushing again to twist and flip us. I slam him onto his back, and he gasps as my mouth opens, teeth showing as my lips curl back in fear, pain, and _fury_. Green eyes linger in my mind, and the shade of the ones staring up aren't the right color but it's close enough to frighten me. My breath comes hard and fast, and I grab his shoulders and press him into the bed, staring at the _green_.

He winces, and then goes lax underneath me. His hands let go of my wrists, and he drops his arms down and relaxes underneath me. His head tilts back, baring his throat, and I stare at it for a second before raising my gaze back to his face. The instinct and terror still rages through me, but something is slowly clicking together inside my head.

"Jaybird," he murmurs, gaze fixed on my face. "It's okay. Whatever you saw, it's alright, I promise. You're in our home, in bed with me. None of them can touch you, and I'm here." One hand rises, and I watch it but don't stop it as it gently touches my shoulder, and then slides up along my neck. "Whatever you need, Jaybird. I'm here. Come back down and let me give you that, alright?"

I shudder, but as I watch him the anger fades away, and my head clears. My throat hurts, I'm stiff and tense, but I force myself to ease out slightly and then let go of him. Carefully, I let myself lower down next to him. I tuck my head against his shoulder, draw my arms in close against my chest, but keep my eyes open so I can see his pale skin, and the fall of his red hair. _Nothing_ like the Joker's acid green strands, and I have to remember that.

Roy's hand slides up my back, and he slowly turns towards me. I don't struggle as he wraps his arm around my back, and presses his mouth against my forehead. "Anything you need, Jaybird?" he murmurs. I manage a jerking shake of my head. "Alright. Want to head outside for a smoke? I can grab your cigarettes."

Right. Every time this comes up, I forget that he doesn't know that it's been months since I've even touched one of those fucking chemical sticks.

I warily touch his shoulder, and then lightly squeeze my fingers around his skin before shaking my head again. "No, I'll be fine." I never told Roy any of it. It didn't matter. What I did was my own business, and no one else gets to interact with me about it. No pity, no sympathy, no pride, no _fucking_ judgment. I don't want any of that bullshit. It was easier to just never tell anyone what I'd done, except for motherfucking Dick. Nosy bastard can't go a week without digging into my business. I kind of wish I'd had enough energy during that time to ignore him or back him off. He didn't need to know my reasons.

"You sure?" Roy murmurs, in reference to my refusal. "Looked like a nasty dream, Jaybird. You know I won't judge you for it, and you know it relaxes you." I _know_ it does, but I gave that up. I chose to let it go. "I can grab it for you, alright?"

He starts to get up, and I tighten my grip on his shoulder and pull him back down. "Don't," I press, keeping my voice quiet. "There aren't any."

"You're out?" Fucking Roy. Totally oblivious sometimes, and god I love him anyway but I can't help being just a touch aggravated. "I'll go out and grab some, no problem. You know, I haven't see you smoke in a while, Jaybird. You being extra sneaky about it or something? Cause you don't have to. I know there was a little rough patch, but I promise it really doesn't matter to me. I won't deprive you of—"

" _Stop_ ," I tell him, my voice somewhere in the middle of hard and wavering. I open my eyes, looking up to find his slightly confused, worries ones, and then drop my gaze to the sheets. "I quit."

"I… What? Quit?" He can't be ignorant — no way — but he does slide his hand down my side and hold my gaze as much as he can. "What, _smoking?_ " I nod. "What? _When_ , Jaybird?"

That draws a shrug out of me. "A few months ago," I answer vaguely. "Just a habit. No big deal. Stayed with Dick until it was done."

Roy's hand rises to tilt my chin up, and I swallow back any kind of words and reluctantly meet his eyes. " _Why_ , Jaybird? Smoking helped you deal, I know it did. Why give that up? You know I don't — _didn't_ — judge you for it, right?"

"I know," I answer softly, and then I pull my chin away from his hand and lightly squeeze his shoulder. "I didn't need it; I should have quit a long time ago." When I look up Roy is watching me, something in his eyes that's bright and soft at the same time. I _relax_ under that look, tilting my head into his hand and giving a quiet breath of satisfied sound against the skin of his palm. He edges a little closer, his legs tangling with mine.

"How was it?" he asks, fingers trailing over my cheek and then sliding down to wrap around the back of my neck. I ease into the solidity of his grip, into the knowledge that Roy is _strong_ , however he might joke and however people might look down on him for his past mistakes. He's strong enough to handle me, and that's not easy.

I let out a slow breath, and then a huff of wry amusement as my mouth curls into a crooked smirk. "Harder than I thought it would be," I admit, holding his gaze. "Said a few nasty things to Dick, but the bastard just shrugged them off. Smothering fucker he might be, but he makes a good nurse."

"Make him wear the outfit?" I give a startled bark of laughter, and Roy smiles. "Classic, of course. Not just scrubs, though I'm sure he could pull them off."

"Of course he could," I agree. "With his luck he'd get sizes one too small and all of it would cling _just_ right. Sexiest scrub-wearer in the city; put him in a classic nurse costume I think you'd start a riot." Roy's smile is wide, soft, and I raise my hand from his shoulder to slide it into his hair. I pull him into a gentle kiss, and when I pull away I whisper, "But I'd pick you over him any day."

Roy gives a soft laugh, and then draws me in against him for a tight hug. I tuck my head in against his shoulder, and wrap both arms around his chest before I twist us again. I roll onto my back, pulling him on top of me and then reaching down to snag the slipping sheets and pull them back up and over us. Roy pushes up a few inches, his hands sliding against my sides as he shifts to be a little more comfortable.

"So why didn't you tell me?" Roy asks. "You know I would have supported you, Jaybird. Breaking anything like that is worth being proud of."

I wince, and then shake my head. "Don't. I don't want you to be proud, Roy. It was just a stupid habit, and it shouldn't have taken me that long to get around to breaking it. I don't deserve praise for doing something I should have done a long time ago." I let out a slow breath. "Or never should have started. Let it go, alright?"

For a second I really think he's going to, and then he raises his hands to slide along either side of my face. "I get it," he murmurs. "Trust me, I do. But you're wrong." I open my mouth to argue, and then he's shaking his head and smiling. Soft, gentle, and _there's_ the pride I didn't want. "If you don't want anyone else to have a say, that's your business, Jaybird. Far as I'm concerned, they're not involved so what they think doesn't matter. But _I'm_ allowed to be proud of you, and I sure as hell am." He leans down, laying a soft kiss on — of _all_ the fucking things — the tip of my nose that makes me squirm and grimace just a little bit. "You're mine, Jaybird," Roy reminds me, "and you did something that you knew was for the better, even though it was hard. You don't get to tell me I can't be proud of you for that."

I stare at him, and then breathe out a shaky burst of air. "You don't even know _why_."

"So tell me," he says easily, "or don't. I don't need to know." Another kiss, this time to the corner of my mouth. "You quit; I'm proud of you. It's that simple."

"For you." The words are out of my mouth before I can think about them, and then I clench my jaw tight for a moment before forcing myself to try and explain. "And me. It wasn't fair to you to have it be in your face like that, not with what you've been through, and… I didn't ever want to have to avoid you so you could take care of yourself." I swallow, and then carefully squeeze my arms around his torso. "I don't want to be your temptation, Roy. Not ever again."

He's staring at me, and then his face _lights_ with what even I can admit is joy. "You did all of this for me?" he asks, and then laughs. He leans down into me and kisses me, for real this time. Not enough to excite me, even though he is naked and on top of me, and usually that does the trick all on its own, but enough to make me grip him a little harder, and hold him against me. Then he pulls away an inch, smiling so brightly his jaw must ache, but I can't see any hint of that in his gaze. "You didn't have to," he murmurs, "but I'm adding this to the long list of reasons I love you, Jason."

Those simple words still make my chest _ache_ with emotion and love that I am _not_ used to, and I drag in a shallow breath and don't even try to control my smile. I slide my left hand up his back, and then around so I can gently sweep his hair back from his face and tuck it behind his ears.

"I wanted to," I answer, "and I love you too, Roy. Always."

"Never doubted it." His fingers trace down my jaw, and he ducks his head to press a soft kiss along the path of his fingers. "Sleep, Jaybird?"

I let out a slow breath, and then shift my head in a careful nod. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Roy shifts to the side, slipping to lie next to me. His head settles on my chest, tucking beneath my chin, and he firmly makes himself comfortable. My arm is hooked around his back, his right leg is between mine, and his arm is slung across my waist with his hand splayed across my side. I reach down and tug the sheets up again, all the way up over Roy's shoulders. I doubt they'll stay there, but it's worth a try. I ease into his touch, turning my head down into his hair.

Then, before the idea that sparks in my head can be nixed by the smarter parts of my brain, I murmur, "Roy, can we be public?"

He stills, and for a second I think I've really managed to fuck things up, but then he pushes up so he can look at me. He looks stunned. "Are— Are you serious?" he asks, and his voice _completely_ matches his expression. I can't manage to say anything — my throat has stubbornly decided to close up — but I do manage to nod to give him an answer. He stares for a second more, and then his mouth is pressing to mine and he's laughing, gripping my shoulders, swinging up and over me to straddle my thighs as he does his best to steal _all_ of my breath. I respond, of course, but it doesn't really click until he draws back and gasps, "Of course we can, Jaybird. Of _course_."

 _Then_ it clicks.

Roy is mine, I'm his, and now we're on the same page. I don't have to censor myself in public anymore. I don't have to keep a small distance around other people when sometimes all I want is to press up against his back and bury my face in his shoulder. I don't have to hide it when he says something ridiculous or perfect enough that I want to lean in and kiss him just to taste a _tiny_ bit of the genius behind his tongue. I can face down anyone I want and call Roy _mine_ right to their faces.

I let out a breath of laughter, and then lean up to kiss him for one brief, _perfect_ moment.

"Good."


End file.
